The Corruption
by WobblieRabbit
Summary: How Christophe managed to drag Gregory into his dark world, and how Gregory not so secretly enjoyed it.
1. Chapter 1

**Beginning Notes:**

All French words are in italic and translations are in the top and bottoms notes

Merdi - Shit  
Tu fils de pute - You son of a bitch  
Oú - Where  
Tu- You ( it's rude the way Christophe uses it because he's using non-formal way of saying you instead of the formal way [vous])  
Fête - Party  
Ami - Friend  
Comprendre - Comprohend

I would really appreciate some constructive criticism!

* * *

The party was much like the dozens of others Gregory had attended over his short seventeen years. The typical socialites and debutantes crowd the ballroom, chattering about the shallow lives and interests they share. Gregory never liked these parties, the ones that made the materialistic life they all led so much more apparent and insufferable. Music from the orchestra in the far right of the room filled the emptiness in the room as servers dove through the crowds offering beverages and small snacks. The whole scene bled upper class narcissism.

Smoothing back his blonde locks, he leaned against one of the many priceless sculptures in the mansion. At least he could subtly hide away from the party like this; although soon enough someone was going to find him and force him into the same ritual he had to repeat every party. Smile, laugh, charm, and disappear, just like always. He could be social when he wanted to be, but the simple task of following the conversation was hard enough. Acting like he was interested in whatever superficial chat they were engaged in was tiring after continuously doing it for hours. He had no idea how everyone managed to carry on such meaningless conversations for so long without being tempted to jump off a bridge.

A gentle hand grazed his shoulder. His parents stood to his left; his mother wore an exasperated expression, she asked in a voice coated in honey and venom,"Dear, why aren't you mingling with the rest of us? It's not everyday you get a break from your studies and lessons.". He could see the crows feet slowly creeping itself onto her eyes, no amount of make up will hide her obvious replied with a tone matching her, "It's nothing mother, I was just feeling a bit dizzy with the air in here."

His father put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, hard. "You should really circle through the crowds son. There are some lovely young woman who I know would love to make your acquaintance."Gregory brushed the hand of his shoulder and said, "I'm afraid I'm not in the mood tonight father." Blue met blue as the two stared each other down. He knew that his father knew that he didn't fancy these air headed woman, or any women for that matter. Yet he still retained this foolish hope that someday one of these bumble headed girls would make him change his mind, but no amount of alcohol and bribes in the world will fool Gregory into desiring the opposing gender.

His father cleared his throat, "Well why don't you have a breath of fresh air outside then? A change of scenery might refresh you later on for the final toast.". He was right, some time away from all of this could help him look slightly less annoyed during the final toast where whomever who is throwing this bash will ramble on for half an hour how grateful he is to be surrounded by his true 'friends'. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, I'll see you then."

Satisfied with his answer, his father wrapped his arm around his mother and they dissipated into the crowds. Gregory didn't see the appeal in their marriage, it was a hoax. They didn't truly feel love or affection for each other, they weren't even faithful to each other. His father fucked some empty headed bimbo almost everyday, and it was no secret that his mother fooled around with her personal 'servants'.

Quietly exiting the party, Gregory wandered through the empty halls looking for the backdoor. He scanned the walls decorated with pictures and trophies in hunting, there were several pictures of the host displaying dead animals, and many of the animals, he noticed, were endangered species. Polar bears, Tigers, Pandas, Rhinos, even Elephants were proudly displayed throughout the halls. There were fur rugs lining every corridor and tusks mounted on walls as if it was some kind of lip curled in disgust, what a vile act of power, any idiot could shoot a gun, it took a pure imbecile to demonstrate it with vacuous feats.

He could barely remember the name of the host, was it Marcus? Or maybe Maximus? Whoever he was clearly had little mercy towards animals, but it was unlikely that he would see the consequences to his actions like the majority of the people who populated their crowds. It was known that enterprise owners didn't always stick to legal means of production, but few people could stop them with their army of lawyers and built in was things like this that made Gregory dread taking over the family business, he wasn't above using illegal methods, but he would much rather be infamous for them.

Gregory dragged his feet down several halls and corridors until he found a glass door leading to the back garden. The night air cooled his skin upon contact as he shut the door behind him. The air was refreshing compared to the heavy stench of champagne and perfume that coated the ballroom. Despite the all the madness that surrounded him, he lived for these small moments of peace in between.

Wandering through the garden, he found it was much bigger than he had anticipated. It was monstrously huge with fountains, hedges ironically shaped like animals, and ponds. He loosened his tie and shed his suit jacket as he settled onto one of the stone benches. Letting out a breath he wasn't aware he was keeping in, he laid down on his back and stared up into the pitch black sky. He would've been able to see the stars if it wasn't for the smog of the city.

Tension seeped out of his body as he slowly shut his eyes, who cares if he missed one toast? He doubted anyone would notice if he was missing anyway; too many things for them to worry about, like what colour helicopter will match their drapes.

The peaceful moment was cut short when he heard something shuffling near him. His eyes flew open and he unholstered the gun he kept tucked into the waistband of his boxers. Already on his feet, he was silent, straining his ears to catch any noise. There was another shuffle, but it wasn't loud, and it sounded odd. It was muffled and faint, like it was...below ground. It was becoming louder and louder, like it was going to jump out of the ground at any second. His position was tense, with his head bent down scanning ground around him. The sound repeated itself again and again with fewer lapses of silent between, until it was almost constant.

He really should have paid sharper attention to his surroundings, because he failed to see the ground crumble beneath his own _feet_. In a blur, he plummeted down the hole landing on something...soft?

Someone snapped," _Merde_! What the hell?!" Scrambling to get upright, there was a tangled mess of limbs and cursing. Gregory eventually ended up straddling whoever the hell it was, and had his gun pressed into the side of the strangers neck. The hole was somewhat shallow, he noticed, and very dim. His eyes struggled to adjust to the minimal lighting, but eventually strangers shape and features came into focus.

He was actually quite young, almost Gregory's age, maybe a little older. His features were pleasant, he would of considered him handsome if he wasn't covered in dirt and grime. Clicking off the safety of his gun he asked,"Who the hell are you?". The strangers eyes fluttered, the shot wide open. His entire body jolted but tensely retracted once the barrel of dug into his neck. Blue met green as they stared each other down. "Who ze fuck are you?"

"I asked first." The mysterious person growled and shot out his right hand to grab something, this lack of support caused the both of them to topple onto their sides. They both struggled to top each other, with the mysterious party winning by elbowing Gregory in the stomach. Falling back, he felt a heavy weight crash on top of him. A rough hand took hold of his hair while a thin metal surface was placed upon his throat. His own hands were occupied, one pressing a gun squarely onto his assailant's heart, and the other gripping the wrist of the hand gripping his hair.

Looking up, he could see that there was a shovel placed at his throat, and he could better see the stranger with the moon illuminating his features. He could clearly see the sharp features that made his face seem all the more intimidating, and the strong green eyes that seemed to bore through him. "Who ze hell are you, _tu fils de pute!"_ Gregory clenched his teeth and struggled against him, but only succeeded in having the grip on his hair tighten and the shovel pressed deeper onto his throat.

"I don't have to tell you shit.", he digged his gun harder into his chest to demonstrate his assailant growled and released his death grip on his hair, only to rip apart half his shirt.

He yelped,"The hell-?!" Digging his knee into the assailant's side, he struggled to get out of his grip. "Where ze hell is your wire?!"

"What on earth are you talking about?" His shirt was ruined with both sides torn terribly, and his buttons strewn about the night air was cold, his body was on fire from a mix of adrenaline and heat seeping off the assailant onto him. "Your fucking wire! _Oú_ is it?"

"You can't find it because I'm not wearing one you pervert!" The weight on him eased up slightly, and the the death grips on him loosened. "Your not a bodyguard?" Gregory took the opportunity to kick him off, "Of course I'm not a bloody bodyguard!". Shooting up onto his feet, he angrily punched the Frenchman's right cheek, causing him to stagger back a few steps. Pointing his gun at him , he demanded, "Now who the hell are you, and what the hell are you doing here?" Rubbing his cheek he answered,"It ees best if you leave right now before _tu_ become a casualty."

Narrowing his eyes he replied, "Answer the damn question before I put a bullet between your eyes." The man shrugged then said, "I'm here to kill the host of this _fête_.". Gregory raised an eyebrow, "Seriously?". The 'assassin' huffed and lit a cigarette he pulled from his back pocket. "Oui, is zat so hard to believe? Some extreme animal rights group hired me to kill him because he hunts endangered species or some shit."

Putting his gun down he smoothed back the blond locks that fell out of place during their 'scuffle'. "Oh, is that it then?" Tucking his gun back into the waistband of his pants, Gregory started to dust himself off. The 'assassin' raised a suspicious eyebrow at him," 'is that it'? Shouldn't _tu_ be concerned for his _ami_ well-being?" Gregory, more concerned in figuring out a way out of the hole nonchalantly replied, "He's not friend of mine, I can barely remember his name. This party was mandatory for me since I typically avoid such celebrations." Finding a steep slope to scale, Gregory climbed out of the hole with the Frenchman tailing behind. "So you are fine with it all? Not even going to try and stop me?"

Gregory turned around to face him,"Do you _want_ me to try and stop you?". The assassin let out a long exhale of smoke in Gregory's direction, "A sane person would try to stop me." Gregory frowned at the awful smell,"Sanity is overrated these days. Your quick to lose it, and eager to pretend you still have it." The man put out his cigarette under his boot, "Wise words, now if you excuse me I have a contract to fulfill." Gregory watched as he walked away. The man turned around once to say, "You will speak nothing of this night, this never happened, and I was never here. _Comprendre_?". He simply nodded his head in agreement then walked the opposing direction to try and find an exit.

He wondered if he would ever meet the Frenchman again.

* * *

 **End Notes:**

Merdi - Shit  
Tu fils de pute - You son of a bitch  
Oú - Where  
Tu- You ( it's rude the way Christophe uses it because he's using non-formal way of saying you instead of the formal way [vous])  
Fête - Party  
Ami - Friend  
Comprendre - Comprohend

Sorry I don't mean to sound like a broken record, but I would really like some constructive criticism to improve my work!


	2. Chapter 2

I'm so sorry that it's been so long that I updated (＞ｍ＜) but I actually finished the chapter a month after I posted the first one but my computer crashed so I had to rewrite the entire thing ヽ( `д´*)ノ My schedule has been crazy with school and extracurriculars, I'll try to keep a more constant chapter update in the future. Don't forget to leave comments, I will literally take any constructive criticism. ⌒(o＾▽＾o)ノ

putain-Fuck  
Va te faire foutre- Fuck you  
Tas pas de couilles- You have got the balls  
Ferme ta gueule- Shut the fuck up  
Ta guele- Shut up

Rapier; an old fashion fencing sword (I know that he doesn't actually use this sword in the movie, but it kinda fits him so I sorta changed that...)

Christophe angrily kicked the his shabby apartment's wall as the memory of the mission gone wrong a few days prior replayed over and over in his head. He was a professional dammit! A simple sneak and kill mission had never gone so off course in all his line of work. Everything was going perfectly fine, until he had managed to dig a tunnel right below the only person in the garden. He didn't actually think anyone would actually be there so he had been caught completely off guard.

All the riches connard were supposed to be in the ballroom, so he didn't have anything to defend himself other than his shovel. He should've worn the fucking bulletproof vest at least that Brit bastard wouldn't have gotten the drop on him. His body was still sore from when the guy fell on top of him, he had a red ringlet on his neck where the barrel of the gun was pressed, and a purple bruise on his left cheek. Grazing his fingers on the bruise he flinched from the needles of pain that spread in his cheek, damn that guy had a mean right hook.

Although a very small, practically miniscule part of him did think he deserved the hit after what he did. The memory of him pinning the posh boy down and ripping his shirt off, was a memory that was replayed several times over the course of the last few days. Embarrassment flooded his cheeks; he honestly thought that he was a bodyguard. He just wanted to destroy his wire so he couldn't call for help, and with all the adrenaline that was running through his body it didn't occur to him at the time that his actions could be seen as perverse.

"Zis is fucking bullshit." Running his hand over his face, he sobered up and fished his laptop from between his couch cushions. He was compromised, he let the stranger see his his face and walk away. The second the damn Brit lowered his gun he should've snapped his neck on the spot. Now he needs to find this bastard and put a bullet between his eyes before he let the truth slip out. Based on his initial reaction when Christophe told him he was there to kill someone, he doubted that the stranger cared enough to report him to the police, but he couldn't leave any loose ends.

Flipping open the laptop he started searching for whomever the hell the guy was. He was obviously rich, British, and educated. He had clearly seen the stranger's face, he was handsome with the classic blond hair, and blue eyes look.

But he noticed that during their struggle his eyes became more wild and animalistic, and he could've sworn that he was smiling when they wrestled for power in the dirt. Somehow, the violent flare suited him, like a second skin. He couldn't get the picture of the Brit lying beneath him with flushed cheeks and his shirt ripped open.

Christophe shook his head; no those were the wrong details. He's thinking with his dick not his head. No matter how much he would love to press that Brit down and fuck him until he couldn't feel his hips, he had priorities, one of them being to not be hunted down by law enforcement. Grumbling to himself, he put his focus back to the screen and continued his search until he finally found a match.

His name was Gregory, he's an only child who's also star student at Yardale where he keeps a 4.0 gpa. Digging further into his file, Christophe found that Gregory was really rich. Like stupidly rich, he was the heir to his family's fortune and on top of that he would inherit his father's enterprise once the old man retired. Looking through his file Christophe saw a life that was much similar to many rich socialites. Nothing really stood out until he found managed to find a history of his classes and teachers comments.

He seemed to have done almost every class imaginable; international politics, several arts, world history, mathematics, anthropology, and more.

Once he killed him he'd have to keep a low cover to avoid being hunted down by the police. He doubted that Gregory's family and colleagues would be happy if their star child died. Christophe groaned, this was going to be a headache . Skimming through the grades, recommendations, and comments, his eyes began to skim through the pages until one of the comments caught his eye.

Gregory has become an excellent swordsman over the years, and we are thankful to have the privilege of teaching him. He no longer needs the services of our school, but he is welcome to make use of any of our resources and facilities. We urge you take into consideration of having him compete internationally, we believe that he has the capability to make it to the world finals and we would be sad to see his talent and years of training wasted. We wish him the best, and we hope that you will take into consideration our recommendation for Gregory's future, and we hope that you will continue to support our school in the future.

The recommendation came from a well known fencing academy in England. Looking through his fencing history seemed to open up a flood of information. He had been fencing since he was 4 years old, and he had competed and won his first competition at the age of 6.

It was well hidden, and the Brit bastard did a good job of keeping it under wraps, but Christophe managed to hack into some very 'personal' history. The sensitive information showed an entirely different side of him, there were purchases for guns, rapiers, many illegal weapons and firearms, and there were land purchases from around the world along with several off-shore accounts containing a lot of money.

There were even a few videos, clicking on one he watched a 6 minute video of Gregory slicing through training dummies cleanly. Putain , he was going to be hard to kill. Just his fucking luck, this was going to be a fucking nightmare. He had the upper hand with his experience, but if he messed up the guy was most likely going to kill him, or torture him, or whatever the fuck shady guys like him do. The guy probably slept with an axe under his pillow.

Closing the laptop, the rose from the couch and grabbed his shovel. This was going to be a very long night.

Tunneling under the mansion was easy enough, it was sneaking around the ridiculous amount of security that was the hard part. The mansion itself was huge, and he had no idea where or how to find Gregory . He only knew where his bedroom was located, which is where he hopefully will be, if not then he'd just stick around until he went to bed. It was tricky finding his way around the grounds considering the rotating guards, security cameras, and the fucking guard dogs.

He hated dogs in general, but he especially hated guard dogs. Call it trauma from early childhood, he still had the messy bite scar on his forearm. Thankfully, he rarely had to deal with guard dogs since his musk of dirt and dust shielded him from their keen sense of smell.

Gripping his shovel, he pressed his back against the rough brick wall. He had set the security cameras on loop to avoid being seen, but avoiding the patrolling guards was difficult. According to the blueprints, Gregory's bedroom was on the 4th floor, and luckily his bedroom had a window that he could slip in and out easily. He only had 6 minutes to climb up to the fourth floor window and break in, which was tricky considering the wall was flat with no foot or hand holds.

Swinging his grappling hook upwards, it hooked onto the the roofs gutter. Scaling the wall was child's play now, thanks to his years of digging hoisting his own weight was effortless. In less than a minute he was already at Gregory's window. It was already partly open, so all he had to do was slide the screen upwards and climb in. He dismantled his grappling hook and looped it around his waist as he quietly climbed inside the room.

The room itself was surprisingly normal sized and modest; with a bookcase, desk, and bed where a sleeping figure laid under the blankets. Creeping slowly and quietly towards the bed, he dismantled his shovel from the holster on his back. When he was next to the bed, he quietly raised his shovel above where his neck should, then brought it down with the force equal to a raging bull.

Surprise and panic flooded his body when the shovel hit not a neck, but something soft. Ripping off the blankets, there was a ripped body pillow, "What the he-?!" A strong pair of arms took him by behind, covering his mouth and twisting his good arm behind his back.A mouth whispered into his ear, "It's about damn time you showed up, I was beginning to think I'd have to come to you."

He struggled to free the arm trapped behind his back, but the grip tightened painfully in return. He used his other arm to try and elbow him, but none of his hits seemed to be affecting him. "Would you please stop struggling? You're going to make this much harder than it has to be." He ceased trying to twist his body out of his grip and instead whipped back his head to colliding with Gregory's face. The hold immediately loosened, letting Christophe turn around and tackle Gregory to the floor," Va te faire foutre ! "

Gregory's back hit the wall, with Christophe's head buried into Gregory's chest, and his arms wrapped firmly around his waist. He felt Gregory bring down his elbow harshly onto his back several times until he caught his both of his arms, "That eez enough!". Finally looking up, his face was centimeters away from Gregory's; he could feel his hot breath on his skin and their chests were against each other.

Remembering why he was there in the first place, Christophe un holstered his gun and aimed it at the Brit's forehead. Clicking off the safety, he pressed it against his target's forehead. Gregory smiled and said," Tas pas de couilles.". It didn't feel right, none of this felt right. He grit his teeth and hit Gregory across the face with his gun, " Ferme ta gueule !". With a growl, Gregory pushed him off harshly and slid the gun to the far side of the room.

The two of them locked eyes for a single moment. The high of their adrenaline rush was wearing off and the stinging pains of bruises and cuts were setting into both of the young men. Gregory smirked as if he knew something that he didn't.

"I thought you were a professional assassin Delorne." Fuck, he knew his name. "You looked me up?" Gregory raised an eyebrow, "Didn't you look me up?". He chose not to reply in favour of diving after his discarded shovel lying near the bed. He managed to grab the handle of his shovel but let go when a heavy weight dropped onto his back. Two rough, calloused hands pulled his arms behind his back while his knee dug deep into the small of his back. He could feel Gregory lean down and pant warmly into the shell of his ear, "I do insist that you keep quiet. If someone were to find us we'd both be in trouble."

Christophe's entire body was tense as the brit continued to whisper in his ear, "Christophe Delorne, aka Ze Mole; a french assassin-for-hire who popped up out of nowhere at the tender age of ten. You've built quite the reputation for yourself these past eight years. Murder, kidnapping, blackmail, thievery, and much more, there isn't a level too low for you is there?" Christophe began to grind his teeth together, " Ta guele ."

"Relax mole, I'm not going to kill you. I merely have a business proposition."


End file.
